


Mission Complete

by sunalso



Series: Sun and Gort Do Kink Bingo Spring 2019 [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Collars, Dom/sub, Domme Jemma Simmons, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flogging, Public Scene, Season/Series 01, arm binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:05:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/pseuds/sunalso
Summary: S1 AU. Fitz-Simmons are tapped as the perfect agents to send on a very specific kind of undercover assignment.





	Mission Complete

**Author's Note:**

> _A/N: Because I know not everyone reads the tags, please be advised this is BDSM with an established D/s relationship._

The adults were talking. Not that Skye thought she was a kid, but Coulson certainly treated her like one. Sometimes. Right now she was trying to be invisible as he discussed the details of a mission with Agent Hand. They seemed to have mostly forgotten Skye was there, which was awesome.

Apparently, they were attempting to pin down a very slippery arms dealer. The only weakness anyone knew about was that the guy was kinky, in the leather and chains way. They’d identified him on an online forum for Doms, but his computer skills were too good for anyone to trace him back to his IP address and break into his system. Skye thought she might be able to, but the mission had already moved past that, so she stayed silent.

SHIELD had created a fake persona, a female Domme, on the site and gotten friendly with the perp. They’d set up a little meeting at a local club, in Los Angeles of all places, and were hoping to get fingerprints at a minimum. Possibly other clues, maybe an invitation to the guy’s house since he regularly held parties there for select members of the BDSM community.

“These are the two agents we’ve assigned to the mission,” Hill said, waving in a man and a woman. “Coulson, we’d like your team outside, keeping them safe and trying to get a tracker on his vehicle.”

Daisy pursed her lips. The man was the standard issue ops type with brown hair, bulging arms, and a scowl. The woman was severe looking, with blonde hair pulled back into a bun. They were both wearing robes they shrugged off when Hill waved a hand at them to reveal the black leather outfits they had underneath.

Daisy put a hand over her mouth to hold in her giggles. They both looked ridiculous and uncomfortable.

The man fussed with the harness over his chest and the woman reached for him. “Here, please let me help you.”

He pushed her hand away and growled. “I don’t need your help.” The woman shrank back.

Daisy couldn’t help it. She laughed. Her BDSM experience might all be secondhand, but she’d seen enough with Fitz-Simmons to know that wasn’t how it worked. Everyone’s head swiveled towards her.

“You have something to say?” Agent Hand asked.

Skye looked at Coulson. “At least ask them to consult. Please? This is never going to work. These two will blow their cover in two seconds.”

The man looked furious, which was hard to do in a pair of tight leather shorts. “Who’s this? And what do you know?”

She tilted her head to the side and shrugged. “See?” she told Coulson.

To her surprise, he was smiling at her. “I’ll call Fitz-Simmons right now. I’m sure they’ll be happy to help.”

Skye blinked, then her cheeks warmed. Coulson hadn’t forgotten she was there. He’d wanted it to be her, not him, who told Agent Hand her plan was going to unravel.

Skye thought she might be glowing.

****

Fitz had no idea how he’d ended up like this. Well, actually, he had a very good idea of the series of events that’d resulted in him standing beside a car in downtown LA while Jemma fastened his arms behind him with binders about his wrists and elbows. He was less sure exactly why they’d agreed to be undercover agents.

“It that alright?” Jemma asked cheerfully, even though she was an expert and aware that she wasn’t hurting him.

“Yes, mistress,” he said, and winced at how hollow it sounded. He wasn’t exactly feeling it. This wasn’t how they did things. The leather bindings were, but not in front of other people. Jemma hated having anyone look at him.

She kissed the base of his neck. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Yeah?”

“Something you’ve been wanting.” She sounded very smug.

“Okay?”

Jemma ran a hand over his bare shoulder—he had loose fitting jeans on and now the armbands—and slipped a leather collar around his neck, buckling it in place.

His entire body trembled. Oh, fuck. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_.

Jemma walked around in front of him, grinning. “Do you like it?”

He nodded mutely, unable to speak past the overwhelming emotion. Jemma looked gorgeous. She was in a bright red dress that was vaguely 1950s in its style and sleeveless. She had the shoes and lipstick to match. Her hair was pulled up into a high ponytail with a red ribbon, and her nails were the same color.

How could anyone who saw her not want to worship at her feet?

His knees turned to jelly, but she caught him by his new collar. The collar that marked him as hers. He was hers. _Fuck_.

“None of that, yet,” she reprimanded.

“Yes, mistress.” It came out sincere this time. He forced himself to stay on his feet, but he bowed his head. He did not deserve to look at such glory. And this was a mission, he reminded himself. A mission they were on because it was real for them. She was going to walk into that club, with its equipment and nooks for couples to be together in, and everyone would know he belonged to her. Fitz trembled, and his cock twitched, the metal of the rings around it starting to feel a little tighter.

Jemma had gleefully strapped his prick into the euphemistically names gates of hell earlier. It’d been among the variety of stuff that had been purchased to make the undercover outfits from, and while most of it was useless, her eyes had lit up like it was Christmas morning when she’d found that. It was a series of metal cock rings attached to a leather strap. The largest went from the root of his prick down around under his balls, and the rest of his cock was surrounded by six more. A little D-ring was at the end of the leather part.

It had looked a bit terrifying, but Jemma had been so excited it hadn’t occurred to him to not let her put it on him.

Feeling the metal pressing into him now whispered it was going to both hurt and feel amazing, and also that he’d probably have to come to get the damn thing off. His heart started racing.

How would Jemma want that to happen?

Jemma clipped a delicate chain leash to his collar and stepped back. “Don’t you look wonderful,” she praised. “Eyes on the ground, my collar on you, your arms neatly bound behind your back, and I do think those rings are going to keep you hard for quite a while. What a good, lovely boy you are!”

Warmth spread outward from his chest. Mistress was pleased. The rings around his prick became tighter as it swelled further. His mind made a last, desperate attempt to be rational and remind him that they were walking into danger, but then Jemma tugged on his leash, and he stumbled forward a step, his bound arms hindering him, and everything fled except for the desire to be mistresses’ good boy, so she would love him and care for him. She would be so proud of him, and he’d show everyone else there how a proper sub really acted.

Jemma was going to be so happy with him.

****

Jemma was thrilled right down to the tips of her toes as she led Fitz into the club. It was nothing much to look at from the outside, but inside the place was humming.  Her first stop was the front desk, but it wasn’t a long stop since her fee had been paid already. The receptionist stamped her hand then passed the stamp to her, and she turned to do the same to Fitz.

Her stomach did a funny little flip.

They never dared to do this before, but such a simple action as the front desk attendant not touching her sub…this place got them.

It was incredibly freeing.

She smiled at the attendant and led Fitz into the club proper.

Dear lord, there was a lot going on. A woman was binding a man to a St. Andrews cross on one wall. Another man had his sub bent over a chair and was using a riding crop on her. Oh my, there was a man sucking another off.

Jemma had known that sex was openly performed here, but it was different to actually see it being done.

She glanced at Fitz. His head was bowed, and a swell of pride went through her. All the overwhelming sights and sounds and he was still behaving himself. The bulge in the front of his jeans jerked as the woman being whipped let out a pained and pleasured sound that could only mean she’d come.

Jemma wondered if she should be jealous for a moment, but that was ridiculous. Fitz wasn’t excited by the woman’s noises, more likely he was turned on by the idea of Jemma striking him until he came, which was a possibility. She hadn’t been sure she’d want to do a scene with him in public, but she was seeing things, like subs raising their heads when they shouldn’t, or not immediately doing as told, set her teeth on edge. How did their Doms not go nuts? Jemma wanted to show off Fitz and how he excelled at everything.

However, there was a mission to complete first.

The man she was meeting was sitting at the bar. She guessed it was him, anyway. He was in a tailored suit with a mai tai in front of him, the agreed upon signal. There was a woman on her knees beside him, her long, red hair braided down her back. She was completely naked with one hand gripping the leg of the man’s pants.

Jemma perched on the stool beside the fellow, and Fitz sank to his knees, his hands in his laps. “A blue Hawaiian,” she told the bartender, a young women with a look that said she was just doing this to pay for college.

The man in the suit shifted to look Jemma over. She neatly crossed her ankles and didn’t look away. “You’re not what I expected,” he said, at last, holding his hand out. “I’m Mason, or MT2333, as you know me.”

“Jemma, or LadySix, as you know me.” She shook his hand firmly.

“And this is?” Mason said, gesturing toward Fitz, reaching his hand out like he was going to grab Fitz’s chin.

Red hot anger streaked through her. She caught Mason’s wrist and dug her nails in. “My sub,” she said. “And I think we’re done here. You are obviously not what I was expecting.”

The man sat back and laughed. Jemma glared. She could feel the uncertainty rolling off Fitz. Bloody hell, this idiot had broken the rules and rattled her sub. Fitz would assume he’d done something wrong. Her need to reassure him and ensure that he knew she was taking care of him was driving her mad. The mission…damn it. This man was testing her. Jemma knew she had to go with her instincts.

She stood. “Mr. Mason, I did not find that funny in the least. You’ll have to excuse me. If you think you would still be interested in including me as part of one of your little…soirees, you may speak to me later. Otherwise, good day.”

Jemma was very thankful that recording equipment had not been approved for this op. She had a panic button that would bring armed agents rushing into the club, but an insult hardly warranted that.

“Stand,” she said primly to Fitz, who did so awkwardly with his arms behind his back. Initially, Jemma had thought to take him to one of the private rooms after business had been concluded, but she was seething and needed every last person in the club to know that Fitz was hers, and hers alone.

****

Jemma was cross.

Fitz had not been paying much attention to anything except that it was his duty to concentrate on obeying his mistress so that she would reward him. He’d been vaguely aware that Jemma was sitting at the bar, and that there was a naked woman only a couple of feet from him kneeling beside a man on a stool.

She’d brazenly looked him over in a way that hadn’t felt right, and Fitz had moved so he wouldn’t accidently catch sight of her again. Obviously, she needed better training.

Then abruptly Jemma had become very angry, and he hadn’t thought he’d done anything, but her tone was sharp. Did she think he’d checked out the other sub? He didn’t dare open his mouth to offer a defense. He got to his feet as she asked, and followed her as she walked through the crowd, her hips swishing back and forth with fury.

Fitz was terrified.

What if she was mad enough to leave him? Sit him down somewhere and not come back for him? His breath became short with panic. “I’ll be good!” he blurted.

Jemma turned to him. “I know, Fitz.”

“Don’t leave me here.” He went to his knees, and Jemma threaded her fingers into her hair as he hid her face against her scarlet skirt. “Please.” He wished his arms weren’t bound so he could hold onto her.

“Oh, Fitz. I’m not mad at you.” She pet his head, and he shuddered, not quite believing her. “I know you’re upset right now. I’m going to take care of you so you know I’d never leave you.”

She continued to stroke him, though she spoke to someone else, requesting that her bag be brought to her. It took him a second to remember that as part of club membership, a bag of personal equipment was allowed to be stored on-premise and brought out when needed.

“Come along, now,” Jemma said, pulling on his lead. He climbed to his feet. Their destination wasn’t far. She led him to a quiet corner with a winch.  Jemma positioned him and attached a rope dangling from the ceiling to the cuffs holding his wrists together. She left him to walk to where there was a crank. Slowly she turned it, pulling his arms up. He had to bend forward. She kept going until just his toes were on the floor.

Jemma paused and came over to check him, her hands sliding over his back and arms. As usual, she’d restrained him perfectly. It was a little uncomfortable but didn’t hurt, and he had no reason to have her stop. She continued moving around and stroking him, stopping only to nod when an attendant brought her bag.

His breath caught when Jemma knelt to look in his eyes. “Fitz, I feel like I need to remind you that you are mine. I know you had a knee-jerk reaction to my anger, but it wasn’t directed at you. So, I am going to punish you for assuming it was.”

Fitz nodded and cursed himself. He’d panicked. Of course Jemma wasn’t about to leave him. He was such a dolt.

No.

Jemma would hate him thinking like that. She understood his insecurities, and now she was providing reassurance. Fitz had no doubt he’d end up with beautiful bruises marking him.

“We’ll probably have a bit of an audience,” she said in a low voice. “Do you want to get off or not?”

He considered it. Jemma was excellent at what she did, and she took a lot of pride in her control over his body. Despite her outward calm, she was in an undercover situation where she had little control, and he’d accidently made that worse by doubting her. Jemma needed the comfort of his submitting utterly to her.

Peace washed through him. What did he care if these berks saw his prick?

“I’d like to come, Mistress.”

Jemma smiled. “Very well.” She undid his jeans and moved around to pull them down his hips. He was still half hard because of the rings around his cock, and she made a happy noise as she unclipped the fine chain from his collar and attached it to the D-ring on the gates of hell and draped the chain over his shoulder, where she’d be able to reach it from behind him. Jemma walked over to her bag, knelt and put both hands in. Slowly she stood, a bright red flogger in each fist. The fells swayed from a flick of her wrists.

She was a goddess.

His cock went from half-mast to raging hard-on, and the rings around it dug in, hurting in the best possible way.

Jemma stalked towards him, and he breathed shallowly as she circled him, her blood red-pumps clicking against the cement floor.

A few people had drifted over to watch the unusual lady in red. Fitz was aware of them but had eyes for no one except his mistress.

She lazily flipped one of the floggers against his side, and the touch of the fells was a loving caress. They were narrow enough that with some force they’d hurt, the thought was delicious. Jemma was so insanely good to him. She wasn’t a sadist--she didn’t get off on the pain--it was all about the control for her. Fitz was very, very happy to be under her control, and he knew she’d take care of him. Jemma understood how much he needed the pain and the sweet words and love after.

He made plans to have her on her back later, her thighs around his head as he made her come and come and come. Fitz licked his lips.

A flogger hit his arse. It stung, and he gasped, every thought flying straight out of his mind. There was another harsh smack, and his head dropped forward. His cock throbbed and ached in its prison.

The fells hit his back, gentler, one after the other. It felt like rough caresses, the leather sliding over his skin like fingers. He flexed his arms in their binders and spread his feet further apart, bracing himself for what was coming.

The brush of the fells went from pleasurable to annoying as she continued to only lightly hit him. The pattern became surer, but it wasn’t near enough. He twisted his neck to look at her, only to find her wearing an amused little smile. “Jems—” he started, but it turned into a surprised grunt as she hit him hard between his shoulder blades, every one of the fells biting in.

Fitz sagged forward, letting the rope hold him up. Fuck _, yes_.

Jemma picked back up the pattern, both floggers hitting him on the downstrokes. Back, shoulders, arse, thighs.

There was nothing but the slap of the fells and the beautiful pain. It surged in waves through him, and he knew he was loved. Every lick of the leather was a promise. She cared for him. She would be there for him. She would give him just what he needed.

Like the rings around his cock. Jemma had looked at that bloody contraption and known Fitz would adore how it felt, even when he had thought it silly. Now it those rings made it like she was snugly holding his prick, even as she used both hands to swing the floggers.

He wished he could see her. Florentine flogging was a pretty sight when done well, and Jemma did it very, very well.

The tempo of her hits changed, became faster and harder. A crescendo was building. The pain was pleasure, and pleasure pain. Jemma loved him.

Fitz’s legs trembled. He was caught between the sweet agony of his back and the hard iron around his cock.

The hits abruptly stopped, and all he could hear was his harsh breathing. The chain attached to his prick yanked, making him groan. His back and arse were on fire from the floggers. His entire being hung suspended, waiting to be told what to do.

“Time to come.” Jemma’s voice was prim but backed with steel.

Fitz gladly obliged. His cock bucked, the metal rings exquisitely painful as he spent himself in a rush. The rope holding his arms released and he pitched forward, crashing into Jemma’s embrace.

Balls, he was crying.

She held him against her, arms around his shoulders and rocking slowly back and forth, while she whispered things in his ear about how good he’d done and how proud of him she was.

When he could move, she pulled his jeans up and redid them, clipping the chain back on his collar. Jemma gently steered him over to the bag. She wrapped a blanket around him. Someone appeared and held out a container of chocolate milk and a straw to Jemma, who took them and helped him get the straw in his mouth.

It tasted like heaven. He must have really pleased her to get such a treat as icy cold chocolate milk. When he was done, she pushed up the blanket and quickly spread aloe over his back.

“Are there bruises?” he asked hopefully.

“Yes, you’ll be all black and blue tomorrow.”

Fitz beamed.

She snuggly wrapped him up again and kissed his cheek. Putting an arm around him, she guided him towards the exit.

A man stepped into their path.

“Mr. Mason,” Jemma said. Fitz kept his eyes down.

“That was very impressive.” They guy sounded in awe. Jemma was extremely skilled with her floggers and deserved to be recognized for it. Even by berks that made illegal weapon deals.

“Thank you. Now if you’ll excuse us, I need to get my sub home.”

“I won’t detain you. I just want to say I apologize for earlier. For not taking you seriously.”

“Apology accepted, now if you’d be so kind as to move out of my way—”

Mr. Mason held something out to Jemma. “I’d like to invite you to a much more exclusive place in which to demonstrate your talent.”

Jemma hesitated, then took the card. Her posture did not relax. “I will contact you because I am aware few ever see the inside of your famed dungeon, but I will need assurances first.”

“I understand. I apologize again for underestimating you.”

Jemma nodded. The man disappeared, and Jemma led Fitz back to their car.

She finally undid the arm binders, rubbing at his wrists and elbows. “Are you nearly asleep, Fitz?” He yawned in response, and she laughed. “Fall asleep. You’re safe with me.”

****

Skye clattered down the steps to where she was supposed to meet Ward for training.

Fitz and Simmons had holed up together last night when they’d returned from the mission, but Coulson was all smiles and said it was a huge success.

That didn’t surprise Skye at all, Fitz-Simmons were super kinky, and if anyone could sell being part of the S and M stuff, it was them.

They hadn’t been at breakfast, and when Skye had walked by their cabin a little while ago--and maybe put her ear against the door--she’d heard Jemma making some noises that were not very uptight sounding. Skye had quickly moved on.

Glancing into the lab, Skye saw them in there, and walked in, wanting to ask how they felt about the mission.

She blinked when she realized Fitz didn’t have his shirt on and his back was exposed. It was covered in deep purple and blue bruises.

“Fitz!” Skye yipped.

“Put your shirt on,” Jemma said mildly, not even looking up from what she was working on.

Fitz made a face, but he shrugged his button-up back over his shoulders. “You’re no fun, Simmons.”

“Fun?” Skye said.

“He’s showing off,” Jemma said. “We heard you coming down the stairs.”

“I…” Skye shook her head.

“He’s proud of them. I’ve already taken pictures.”

“Do I want to understand this?” Skye asked. Fitz had to be hurting, but he was grinning ear to ear.

Jemma straightened up as Fitz settled his hands on his hips.

“You know what?” Skye held up a hand. “If it makes you two happy, then I’m happy.”

“Thank you,” Jemma said, walking over to Fitz. He kissed her nose.

“I’m going to go get my own, non-fun bruises.” Skye backed towards the exit, then turned and walked out of the lab. Ward was waiting for her. “Fitz-Simmons are hella weird,” she said.

Ward tilted his head and shrugged. “They got the mission done. I’m surprised.”

Skye stopped short. “Y’know, when it comes to them, nothing surprises me anymore.”


End file.
